the little one awakens at 4:45am and the coffee can’t flow fast enough and the daylight can’t break through quickly enough. i can feel the shaky ground beneath and sense the roaring clouds above and my muscles tense as the clouds crash. collide. pour our their contents and could it be that i am jealous that they have found a way to empty themselves upon being filled to the brim?
there were seasons that made more sense to me. the words to say fell like rain and trickled out like a brook and (could this have been?) i knew what my heart was hoping to say before my mouth said it. but five years of filled to overflowing in all the ways good and some of the ways bad put my mind, heart, soul into overload and i think my mouth is still searching for the words three years past in relevance. i’m trying to catch up. i’m trying to empty myself yet remain full, keep up yet be content lagging behind. is it possible?
“just give yourself grace,” she said.
i pondered not long enough to conjure up a prettier answer and the truth spilled forth,
“that’s the hardest part.”
transition. it’s where we are right now. somewhere between the season gone and the one to come and i’m painting pictures of Egypt and stalling for just a few more seconds and looking into the eyes around me for a rope to grasp. i’m barreling ahead yet analyzing the implications of the moments gone by until my mind is panting and my heart wilts beneath the pressure of what could have been, what should have been, and what i can do to make it be so.
what was that Jesus said about rest? healing? making things right?
i’m in the already but not yet, aren’t we all, and He tells me that as I anticipate what I do not see, He’ll provide the strength to wait for it with patience. there’s the waiting to be fulfilled in this shadow of reality and the waiting to be fulfilled beyond and He’s the one who breathes life into both and grants the peace between.